Jarl of Blackreach
by Alkeni
Summary: Harkon and Alduin are dead yet the civil war rages on. The Dragonborn Kisyra decides to turn her energy to an old passion: uncovering the mysteries of the Dwemer. But she soon learns that one can never escape politics. The expedition becomes a settlement, and armies march onwards across Skyrim. The reluctant Kisyra must take on a new role, as the Jarl of Blackreach. FemaleDB/Serana
1. Immortality

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Skyrim or any aspect of the Elder Scrolls universe. Insofar as I can own original content in a fanfic, I own any original content, such as characters, places, items, concepts and plot points, that I put into this fic. I am not making any money off this, and Bethesda owns Skyrim and The Elder Scrolls series and everything to do with both.

**Note on Dating:** For the purposes of this fic, it took approximately ten months for the Dragonborn to complete the Dark Brotherhood, Thieves Guild and Main Quest questlines, along with various sidequest and such. After a few weeks, the Dawnguard questline was started, and including a month at Castle Volkihar between becoming a vampire and the search for a Moth Priest, the whole thing took about two months. Thus, its been approximately a year and a few weeks since the 'start' of Skyrim.

**Final Note:** The Elder Scrolls universe is rich in lore, backstory and detail, and the characters are diverse and well-developed. This makes for a great play experience, but it also makes it very difficult to get every little thing right. I'll be drawing heavily on the Unofficial Elder Scrolls Pages and their Lore articles to make sure I get everything right, but I'm sure I'll miss things, or get things wrong here and there. If I do, please feel free to (politely) correct me.

Thanks to Thyvillain's help as a beta-reader for this chapter. If you haven't already, check out their fic "Forsworn Prince", an excellent read.

Jarl of Blackreach

By Alkeni

Chapter 1: Immortality

_Heartfire 7th, 4E 202_

_Volkihar Cathedral, Castle Volkihar_

With a final scream of furious agony, Lord Harkon's body collapsed into red ash, falling onto the bone-strewn floor. The glowing, smoldering pile was all that was left of the obsessed, ambitious lord of Castle Volkihar.

Kisyra let Auriel's Bow drop nervelessly from her hand as relief flooded her. It was done. Harkon was dead. The sun would not be extinguished. And most importantly...Serana was freed from her father's shadow. Kisyra made her way to the woman crouched by the pile of ash, blood trickling from a dozen small wounds. Drawing upon the magic of the Restoration school, Kisyra ran a glowing yellow hand over her own wounds, then did the same to Serana's injuries.

Serana looked at Kisyra as she healed her, then turned back to the ash pile. "He wasn't always like this." The Daughter of Coldharbor said softly as she scooped up some of her father's remains, letting the fall back to the ground through her fingers. "At least, I'd like to think that. That the man we just killed wasn't the father who raised me, who once loved me. But maybe...maybe this is who he always was? Maybe he was never the man I remember from my childhood. Maybe this is always he ever was: a cold, cruel, obsessed madman, willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for his quest to end the tyranny of the sun."

Kisyra put her hand on Serana's back. "Its possible, Serana. But people do change. In the past, maybe he really was a Father to you...but clearly, whatever he was before, the prophecy became his only obsession, the only thing that mattered to him. He picked it over you, over your mother. But he's gone now. You're free of him. Free of his madness."

Serana stood. "No, not just me. Both of us. You knew – you knew he was always going to try to kill you, one way or the other, from the moment you accepted his gift, became one of us."

Kisyra nodded. "It wasn't that hard to expect. I suppose...the last year has been an education, in the ways of betrayal, and ambition. I was too powerful for him to accept in the clan for long. Too powerful, too free-willed...all that I was waiting for was for him to realize just how powerful I was. Being able to use the Voice alone would have been enough to be too powerful." She sighed. "Just once, I'd like to go somewhere where people aren't trying to – or planning to - kill me, or seek my help for every little thing." She faced Serana directly. "Regardless...now that he's dead...how does it feel? To be free of him...but...he was your father...that still has to mean something."

Serana looked away a moment, licking her lower lip slowly. "I thought I'd feel worse. Some...sadness, or guilt, maybe...loss? I just...I just killed my father. But...I don't. I'm...disappointed. You're right, though. He hasn't been my father in...a long time. Not where it counts, anyway." She looked at Kisyra. "The fight's over, Kisyra. You can take the mask off."

Beneath the cowl and mask of her Nightingale Hood, Kisyra smiled a moment. Serana hated talking to her when she was wearing the mask. Not that she had any real attachment to it herself, but she wore it so often that she had long since grown used to it. Before Serana, she'd usually only taken it off to eat or sleep. Reaching her hand up, she removed the mask, then lowered the hood, revealing her face.

Though an Imperial by birth – and she still had the accent to prove it – visually, Kisyra's skin could have been passed for that of the most pure-blood of any Nord, so pale had it been even before she'd become a vampire. Her hair, on the other hand, was black, hanging long and straight down to her back. The only blemish on her face was a narrow scar along the right side of her chin. A souvenir from that damned day in Helgen.

"Much better." Serana smiled. "As for how I feel...now that I'm free of him? I think I can show you better than tell you." Serana reached up, one hand tracing along the scar a moment, before going behind the other vampire's head. She gently brought Kisyra closer to her and pressed her lips to Kisyra's.

A feeling of pure, unadulterated happiness flowed through Kisyra at the touch of Serana's lips on hers. It was a feeling she hadn't felt, not so clearly, so cleanly, since before she'd actually come to Skyrim over a year ago. Wrapping her arms around Serana, Kisyra returned the kiss, holding the other woman close. The feeling of Serena's lips on hers, Serana's arms around her...Kisyra was quickly lost in the sensation, as the both of them gave into desires they'd ignored for too long, their awareness of the world around them falling away.

It was the sound of a polite, but firm throat-clearing that pulled the both of them back to the world. Kisyra broke the kiss, pulling away from Serana, her hand vanishing from the other's lower-back. "I hate to interrupt," Garan Marethi's smooth, unassuming voice belied the magical power that fairly rolled off him. "But with Lord Harkon's...unexpected death, there are matters that must be discussed."

"It had to be done." Serana told him firmly, facing the Dunmer. "He was mad. In a perfect world..." She shook her head. "Regardless of what I might have wished, there was no other way."

Garan held up a hand, as if in protest. "Far be it for me to contest or question your reasons for this. My loyalty to Lord Harkon was to his position as Master of this Castle and Leader of the Volkihar Clan. I serve whoever it is that holds that post, regardless of who they are. By right of blood, the titles should go to you, Serana." He turned to face Kisyra. "On the other hand, by right of conquest, they are also yous. Fortunately, the fact that the two of you are so clearly...aligned suggests that there will be no problems on that front."

"Is there a point to all this, Garan?" Kisyra demanded, her hand flying to the hilt of her sword – one of them, anyway.

Garan bowed a few inches. "I assure you My Lady. There is a point."

"Then you'd best get to it. As you can tell, I've had a rather long day, and I'm in no mood for verbal games." Kisyra had never held much fondness for any of the vampires in the castle, bar Serana.

And Garan, though efficient in his role as Harkon's Chancellor, had been no exception.

"Vingalmo and Orthjolf are waiting outside, ready to attack you if you two are indeed the ones to leave this room. I would advise you both to be ready for them."

"I don't particularly want the throne." Serana said. "They're welcome to it, for all I care." Kisyra couldn't help but agree.

"Unfortunately, I know them too well for that to work, My Lady." Garan replied. "As long as the two of you exist, even if you cede command of the clan to one of them, they will see you as a threat, and never rest until you are dead for good. It would be best to kill them now, or at the very least put them as firmly in their place as your father did."

"No other alternatives? How convenient for you." Kisyra sneered. "Tell me Garan, why aren't you with them? Don't you have any ambitions of your own?"

"Not particularly." Garan replied, unfazed. "The Throne holds no allure for me. Though, through most of the last two hundred years, since my rise to this post, I've done far more of the decision making than Harkon. Your father spent more time brooding over his missing Elder Scrolls than in acting as leader of the clan. And if neither of you have any real interest in the position, I'm content to do the same for you."

"Very convenient." Kisyra rolled her eyes. "I've no interest in ruling, but if you expect to stay as Chancellor, there are ground rules I will expect to be followed. If not, there will be a new opening in the Court. And I will be making decisions, Garan."

"Certainly, My Lady." He bowed, deeper this time. "We can discuss your rules and desires after your rule has been secured." He made is way over to Harkon's ashes. "Do you wish these preserved, or shall I have them disposed of?" Kisyra turned to Serana. It was her decision.

Serana shook her head. "Get rid of them. Scatter them into the Sea of Ghosts. Leave the fishes to eat what's left of him."

"Very well," He inclined his head in acknowledgment of the command.

Paying him no further attention, Kisyra turned to Serana. "Ready?"

"Not particularly." Serana admitted. She turned around a moment, waving a hand. Auriel's bow floated over to her hand, and she gave it back to Kisyra. "But I suppose it has to be done. The Court really doesn't change. There's different people than from when mother sealed me away...but they're still having the same pointless fights."

Kisyra suppressed a slight laugh. She took the bow, slinging it over her back. "I don't think I need the weapon of a god to handle those two. My sword will be good enough." She rested a hand on its hilt.

"I imagine you think you could defeat Orthjolf faster than I could Vingalmo." Serana asked Kisyra, a smile forming on her face, an eyebrow raised as she looked from her sword hand to her face.

"Every day of the week, Serana." Kisyra replied smoothly, smiling as well. "I'll even bet on it." She added dryly.

"With what? I don't exactly have any money to speak of." Serana countered.

Kisyra smirked and raised an eyebrow. "I think we can both imagine suitable...forfeit, no?"

Serana smirked at Kisyra's words. "I suppose we can at that."

Pulling her hood back up, Kisyra replaced her mask and drew her sword of choice for dealing with vampires. She'd nicknamed the ebony longsword she'd taken from a bandit leader 'Toorzahkrii' for its fiery enchantment. It had served her well any time she'd needed to defeat a vampire before, and it would continue to serve her in that capacity now.

Stepping out of the Cathedral, sword in hand, shield on her other arm, Kisyra looked out from beneath her hood at Orthjolf and Vingalmo in the main hall below. Running at the railing, Kisyra grabbed onto it with one hand and backflipped down onto the main floor, landing right in front of Orthjolf.

"Show off." Serana muttered as she headed for the stairs, readying her magic.

Kisyra looked at the two 'advisors' to the late Harkon, then to all the other assembled vampires of the Volkihar Court. "Harkon is dead. By right of blood and conquest, control of the clan, and this castle belongs to Serana and myself. If any among you wish to challenge that right, do so now. Otherwise, I have things to do."

"You have been of this court, of this clan, for barely two months." Orthjolf spat. "How dare you presume to be superior to any of us?" The Nordic vampire drew his own sword, leveling it at her. "You should be licking my boots, woman!"

"I killed Lord Harkon. If you think you can do better than him, go for it." Kisyra chuckled darkly. "I could use the cool down from a _real_ fight."

"You're not just facing him. Dull and crude as he is, Orthjolf is correct, this time. You have no right to be claiming such a position of power in this clan." Vingalmo said cooly, lightning flying from one hand to the other as the high elf stepped to stand on the left side of Orthjolf.

"And you're not just facing her, Vingalmo." Serana called out. Lightning of her own flew from her fingertips, hitting Vingalmo. The Altmer vampire cursed in his own language before spinning around to face Serana. Kisyra was moving on Orthjolf even before Vingalmo was halfway done with his motion, her sword flying into the Nord's left side. Even as it connected, pain spread across the vampire as fire spread from the wound. But it wasn't for nothing that the rest of the clan feared Orthjolf's skill with a blade. He swung his sword at Kisyra, the draining enchantments more than capable of leaving its target exhausted. But the sound of metal on glass was the only response, as the Dragonborn caught the attack on her shield. She'd spun around, as if in a dance, and even as Orthjolf's sword arm recoiled from the impact, she was swinging her own weapon back around.

This time, Orthjolf was ready, and he caught the attack on his own sword. Flames still leapt from her sword to his arm, but the amount was less. Gritting his teeth against the pain, refusing to let it stop him, Orthjolf smirked fiercely. "You'll need more than that to defeat me!" He pulled his weapon away from Kisyra's and started swinging at her. Each two-handed blow was caught on the Dragonborn's shield, but she kept giving ground, stepping back from her attacker. "You can't beat my strength with your tricks! Fire is nothing to me!"

"If that's not enough fire," Kisyra replied with a smirk, "Then how about this? YOL TOOR SHUL!" The air reverberated with the power of her Thu'um. But with her words came fire, spitting out from her mouth. It covered Orthjolf, the dragonfire burning stronger, hotter and faster than even the magical fire from her sword could.

Crying out in pain, Orthjolf started to beat at the flames all over his body with one hand, swinging his blade wildly with the other. Kisyra took the opportunity, not letting up her attacks for a second. Once, twice, three times, her sword hit him. On the fourth swing, the vampire barely more than a walking, bleeding cinder, she caught his head under her shield and pulled him in, the ebony weapon driving right through his chest.

As Kisyra pushed Orthjolf's collapsing body of her sword with her foot, Serana ducked under a spell from Vingalmo. She had avoided some, but no tall of his attacks, as a lightning burn on her side could attest, but her own magical protections were better than the Altmer's. "This won't end well for you, Vingalmo! Give up while you can!"

"Never!" The elf replied, snarling out his words. "For three and a half centuries I licked that bastard's boots, served him ably. I will not be denied what is rightfully mine!" Serana gave no reply. She called on her magic one more time, another spike of ice flying out of her hands. It broke through Vingalmo's ward, punching through his neck and all but severing his head.

Breathing hard, Serana looked to Kisyra, and saw her approaching, Orthjolf's ashes behind her. Looking around at the other assembled vampires, Serana watched them fall to their knees in supplication. She didn't bother to hide her distaste as Garan spoke.

"Hail Lady Serana and Lady Kisyra, Masters of the Volkihar Clan!" His words were echoed by all the others with little hesitation.

"Stand the fuck up, all of you." Kisyra demanded, dropping her hood and removing her mask. "I didn't ask for this position, but I have it, and there are some ground rules. First of all, no groveling. Its annoying as hell." She gestured. "So stand up!" The vampires complied with her order. "Secondly, clean this place up." She gestured to the entire room, moving one hand in a circle. "We're vampires, not cultists of Namira. We drink the blood of mortals, we don't eat their flesh. And I don't appreciate the smell of rotting flesh clogging up the air." The vampires didn't move. "Now." She added. "Get to it." She beckoned to Garan to come closer, the Chancellor complying. "I want the doorway to the courtyard re-opened, and I want the castle repaired and cleaned up. Harkon's rule has left it in disrepair, clearly."

"Your will be done, My Lady. However...while we can use the cattle as labor, the repairs will take materials and resources we simply do not have here on the island. They will have to be imported, purchased through vassals on the mainland. And Harkon did not leave our treasury all that full."

"Of course he didn't." Kisyra opened pouch at her belt and reached in. when she pulled her hand out, she had a dozen high-quality, flawless diamonds and a dozen other similarly perfect gems. "Will that cover the necessary costs?"

"I believe they will." He bowed. "I shall make the arrangements at once."

"See to it that you do." Kisyra turned away from Garan, her gaze going to Serana. Unwatched, the Dunmer Chancellor

"Now what?" Serana asked softly. Kisyra reached out a hand to Serana's cheek, caressing it gently with her fingers for a moment. Serana leaned into the touch without thinking, though wishing Kisyra had removed her glove first. Kisyra felt a moment of warmth in her as she moved her hand down to Serana's shoulder, resting it there.

"Now, I believe you owe me a forfeit."

_Heartfire 7th, 4E 202_

_Bedroom, Castle Volkihar _

The sheets lay tangled on the bed around the both of them, Kisyra resting her head against Serana's shoulder. The older – far older – vampire was running her fingers through Kisyra's hair, stroking it gently. "I should have known you'd be a screamer." She smiled. "Given how much of a shouter you are."

Kisyra laughed, the sound full of nothing but happiness. "Being able to use the Thu'um is unrelated to me being a screamer. I was the one long before I could use the other." Kisyra ran her tongue up Serana's neck, causing the other vampire to shiver in delight. Keeping her lips near Serana's ear, she whispered, "Besides, you seemed to like it when I screamed."

"Oh, I did." Serana agreed. "I wasn't complaining, believe me." She kissed Kisyra gently, still stroking the Dragonborn's hair. The two of them just laid there, silently enjoying the feeling of the others closeness, for nearly an hour.

Finally, Serana shifted a little so she could look Kisyra in the eye. "There's something I've wanted to ask – ever since we met really."

"Ask away." Kisyra offered.

"Why did you join the Dawnguard in the first place? I mean...you didn't exactly hesitate to accept my Father's offer of vampirism...you hardly leapt at the chance to kill me, a vampire, when we met, and you were already friends with the vampire in the Blue Palace- Sybille Stentor? You clearly didn't have much of an onus against vampires..."

"To be perfectly honest?" Kisyra asked but continued regardless. "I joined the Dawnguard because I was bored. Well, bored and curious."

"Curious about why there was an increase in vampire attacks...I can understand that, but bored? You decided to become a vampire hunter because you were _bored_? Its a risky hobby, Kisyra."

Kisyra laughed a moment at Serana's almost lecturing tone. "Serana, I killed Alduin. I had reason, then, to be cocky." She sighed, looking up at the ceiling a moment. "I'll admit, the months I spent working to defeat Alduin and end the dragon attacks...they left me something of an adrenaline junkie. Working in the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood during that time contributed to the problem as well. I figured joining the Dawnguard would give me something to do while I dodged recruitment pitches from the Legion and the Stormcloaks. Its a perk of the castle's location, I suppose, that neither side has gotten around to sending me anything here."

"So should I expect us to be off for more insane adventures, then soon?" Serana asked, her tone brooking no disagreement on the 'us' part of the equation.

"Nothing particularly dangerous, actually." Kisyra reached for a goblet on the near bedside table, the iron, bland taste of the castle's cattle's blood washing over her tongue, but sating a touch of hunger that had been rising in her. "Did I ever tell you why I came to Skyrim in the first place? Why I left the relative safety of Cyrodiil to walk into the middle of a freezing province consumed by civil war?"

Serana shook her head, wondering where this was going. "You didn't."

"I came to Skyrim to study the Dwemer." Kisyra explained. "I studied history at the Imperial University, in the capital, and the subject that always fascinated me the most was the Dwemer. Yes, Cyrodiil had the Ayleids, but we _know_ what happened to them. We know more about them, their magics, their history. But the Dwemer...people have been studying them for over two thousand years and still haven't managed to figure them out." She caught a stray bit of blood from her lower lip. "I wanted to explore their ruins, their remnants for myself. Problem was, there's only three regions with any Dwemer ruins, and being an Imperial in Hammerfell or Morrrowind isn't exactly safe these days. So I figured, civil war or not, Skyrim was at least part of the Empire." Kisyra sighed. "I was on my way to Markarth, to study under Calcelmo."

"I had a letter of introduction from one of my teachers at the Imperial University – Thelwe Ghelein another name in the field - and that would have been my in." She continued, resting her head back on Serana's shoulder. "Unfortunately, I was just over the border when I got caught up in that ambush. The Legion decided that I was as Stormcloak too, and put me in line for the chopping block at Helgen." _Doesn't stop Tullius from wanting my help now that I'm the most famous woman in the province._

"And that's when Alduin attacked." Serana noted. She'd heard this part of the story. Her hand resumed its previous stroking of Kisyra's hair, though more lightly this time.

"The one good thing that scaly bastard ever did, I suppose." She shrugged, no venom in her voice. "But after my arrest, my letter was confiscated...and it burned in the attack. As you can imagine, that left me rather option-less. I've been in a lot of Dwemer ruins since, even Calcelmo's excavation beneath Understone Keep, but without that letter..." She shook her head, not finishing the sentence. Serana didn't need her to – she could follow the logic, the tone of Kisyra's voice. In their two months together, they'd learned... "My fascination with the Dwemer is why I accepted you father's 'gift', you know? It wasn't the first time I'd given serious thought to becoming a vampire."

Without meaning to interrupt, Serana asked the question that rose unbidden to her lips. "What do you mean?" Serana shifted again to look directly at her.

"Like I said, we've been studying the Dwemer, ever since they vanished, for over two thousand years...we only know bits and pieces. A single mortal lifetime just isn't enough." She paused a moment before continuing with her thoughts. "I studied vampirism at the university, even getting my hands on some illegal texts on the subject. The problem is though...Porphyric Hemophilia and Sanguinare Vampiris... most of the time, when someone turns into a vampire from them, they lose control. They go feral...I didn't want that. Immortality wouldn't be useful if I didn't have control of myself. The disease is too unpredictable. But you...your father, the others in the Court. They all very clearly seemed to have control of themselves far more so than most vampires I'd seen. Immortality...and control of my own mind while having it. How could I not take the offer?"

Kisyra pressed a kiss to Serana's lips. "But I'll grant, you're a much more...enjoyable reason to have immortality."

**Endnotes: **

'Toorzahkrii', for those who don't have the dragon language lexicon memorized (a category that includes me), means Inferno Sword.

Thelwe Ghelein is the author of the three-volume series 'Dwemer Inquiries'. As it only appears in Skyrim, it seemed a safe assumption to me that he wrote those books sometime in the Fourth Era. There is no lore or canonical reason to assume he taught in the Imperial City, or wrote so close to when 'Skyrim' starts as to be available and alive then – indeed, we have little apart from his name – but since there's nothing against that, I'm saying that he did teach and was alive at least long enough to give Kisyra a letter of introduction to Calcelmo.

Given that most vampires in Skyrim and Oblivion attack you, the player, on sight, even if you've done nothing to arise that anger, I figure that it is safe to assume a largely feral status for many, if not most, standard afflictees of the vampire diseases.


	2. A New Direction

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Skyrim, I do not own the Elder Scrolls. If I did, the entire geopolitical landscape of Tamriel would not have been completely overturned between Elder Scrolls IV and V.

**Note:** For the sake of realism and a more interesting story, I'm vastly increasing the population of Skyrim. Even counting bandits, forsworn and the like, the population of Skyrim in Elder Scrolls V is no more than like 5,000, probably less. For a ninth of an entire continent and a region that has been settled for milennia, this is unrealistic in the extreme. Plus, it leads to even the biggest battles of the Stormcloak Rebellion/Skyrim Civil War having a hundred or so people on either side of the conflict. We'll get into what the population and army sizes look like as the story proceeds, but just bear that increase in mind as we go forward.

Thanks to my beta-reader, Thyvillain for their help with this chapter. If you're looking for another good read, check out her fic, "Forsworn Prince".

Jarl of Blackreach

By Alkeni

Chapter 2: A New Direction

_Heartfire 8th, 4E 202_

_Study, Castle Volkihar_

Kisyra smirked to herself as she tossed another page of Harkon's notes into the roaring fire. The man had assembled veritable books on the notes of his search for the prophecy, his search for Serana after she was sealed away with his scroll and his search for Valerica. They were all meaningless now. For all his searching, he'd failed in his grand obsession.

_It shouldn't be this satisfying just to burn his notes._ Looking out the window at the setting sun, Kisyra sighed and dropped the rest of the pages into the fire in one pile. There were too many things she needed to get done with tonight.

Kisyra looked over the map of Skyrim she had rolled out on the table. By all accounts, the war had stayed low burn in the last two months she'd been busy with her new vampirism, and all that had come with it. Though the truce she'd managed to force down their throats had long since expired, Tullius and Ulfric seemed willing to stand around until the other one blinked. Low burn skirmishing on the borders of Whiterun Hold, but nothing more. With Balgruuf continuing to play coy, neither side seemed willing to press the issue.

_Part of me just wants them to just get the damn war over with_. _Oblivion, if Tullius and Ulric just whipped them out, we could settle the argument with no one else dying_.

Sighing, Kisyra turned away from the map, looking out the window.

"Thinking about the war?" Serana asked from the doorway, arms crossed in front of her.

Kisyra turned back to face her, raising her eyebrow. "You know me so well."

"It wasn't that hard to guess." Serana pointed out. She approached Kisyra, taking the woman's hand. "With Harkon dead...what else is there to draw your attention? Unless you plan to eliminate the Dawnguard..."

Kisyra shook her head. "No. They may be judgmental little pricks, and they're certainly going to be a bother to us and the rest of the clan, but at the end of the day they're still doing some good for the world. Your father ordered the creation of a lot of half-blood vampires when he was looking for you, and a lot of them spread the disease even more. Between the feral ones and the ones that might as well be, there's a lot of vampires unaffiliated with the Clan. They can either get killed by the Dawnguard, or they can come to the Clan for protection."

"That's...ruthless. And more political than I expected from you." Serana said. "But you said you didn't want the throne."

"I don't." Kisyra confirmed. "I don't want the throne, but I have it. Well, we have it. And whether I like politics or not, it seems I can't escape them. And I don't want to see too many people die at the hands of all these ferals, or in general. So the Dawnguard stays. Garan!" She called out. Either he would pick up on her shout, or someone else would and would ensure the Dumner vampire got word she required his presence.

"I don't know if I'll ever understand your fundamental reasoning." Serana said lightly, leaning in and giving Kisyra a light kiss.

"How do you mean?"

Serana shrugged. "Well, you're an assassin, and I've never seen you show remorse over any kill you've made, but the way you talk...you seem to care more about the lives of people than anyone else I've ever met." Then she paused, as if realizing how absurd that sounded. "Then again, you don't exactly have much in the way of competition there." She couldn't help but laugh just a moment, a sharp momentary exhale.

"I will hardly say everyone I kill with with the Dark Brotherhood deserves it. Some do, certainly, but in other cases – someone with a gripe, money and the guts to perform the Black Sacrament is all it takes. But the Dark Brotherhood...well, it is. I have no real issue with killing myself, I'll admit. But I don't go out of my way to do it. I don't have any particular malevolence to those that I kill." She shrugged. "I suppose it should bother me that it doesn't bother me..." Kisyra shook her head. "But I certainly don't want to see massive of numbers of people die. I certainly wouldn't seek to arrange that much death." She looked at Serana. "Besides, I have plans for those vampires that come to us for protection."

"What kind of plans? A hare-brained adventure, perhaps?" Serana asked with a smile.

Kisyra shrugged. "It's a little crazy, I suppose, but not on the level of traveling to Sovngarde to kill the World Eater."

"Then what is it? Inquiring minds want to know." Kisyra shook her head. "You won't tell me?" Serana mock-pouted, then leaned in, pressing a kiss to Kisyra's neck, then moving up to whisper in her ear. "Maybe I can...make you talk."

"You can try." Kisyra agreed with a smile. "But I don't think you can."

"But wouldn't it be fun to find out?" Serana turned at the sound of the opening door, and stepped away from Kisyra a bit as Garan entered.

"You called for me?"

"I did." Kisyra replied. "I will be leaving the Castle shortly, leaving you in charge of the place. Don't expect that will give you the run of the place, nor that you'll have the freedom to direct things as you did under the previous administration. You're not in charge of the clan. Just the castle."

"Of course." He bowed deeply from the waist, neither Serana nor Kisyra believing his obsequiousness for a minute. "I wouldn't dream of anything else."

"I'm sure." Kisyra replied dryly. "First and foremost: leave the Dawnguard alone."

"My lady?"

"You heard me."

"I did, but I'm at a loss to understand your purpose in such an order." Whatever he felt in response to the orders, he made no visible showing of it, keeping his expression carefully neutral. Exactly the sort of skill a Chancellor needed.

"You don't need to understand, Garan." Kisyra replied, her hand settling one more on her sword hilt. "If they attack this castle, or any of the holdings of the vampires already in vassalage to the clan, then certain their attacks can be defended against. If they're encountered in the field, or in other bases outside of Fort Dawnguard, then fine." She looked at him pointedly, tightening her fingers on her sword. "But Fort Dawnguard remains untouched. And any half-blood or impure vampire that seeks our protection will be granted it. Provided they stay quiet and don't draw attention."

"My lady, we hardly have the resources..."

"Yes, we do." Serana cut him off. "As long as some of the members of the court contain themselves from constant, endless indulgence, feeding every hour on the hour, we'll have plenty."

"And we can always get a few more cattle." Kisyra pointed out. "Which comes to the next item on the agenda. Northwatch Keep, the old fortress right across the water. You know of it?"

"I do..."

"The Thalmor use it as a prison and base for their soldiers. I want it taken over. Slowly, but I want it done. Thrall who you need to thrall, turn the leader if the opportunity arises, but only if you think they can still be controlled once they're a vampire." She looked to Serana. "Suffice it to say that the Thalmor don't like me, and the feeling is mutual."

"You're suggesting a very overt action. It is all too possible that our control of the Keep could be discovered any time reinforcements or messages arrive from elsewhere." Garan pointed out. "Not to mention the risk of being caught by people we don't turn or thrall."

"There's on a risk if you don't do your job properly." Kisyra countered. "Keep the prisoners in place. Business as usual there can't be changed too much. Then there really would be a risk of being caught." _Besides, if they do get caught, that will give the Thalmor something to waste their time and energy on._

"I understand. I shall see to it." This time Garan's tone wasn't level and neutral but a least he kept his words themselves free of the reproach his tone had, so Kisyra let it pass.

"I expect weekly reports on your activities, and I will find out if you start acting as if you're in charge of the Clan, or going against my orders."

"I assure you, I would no dream of it."

"So you say. Dismissed."

Garan turned to leave, then turned back to her. "Excuse me...you said you would be leaving the castle, but you neglected to mention where you would be going."

"I did, didn't I?" Kisyra stared at him. "What of it?"

"If I am to send you regular reports on my activities, then I must know where I am to send the reports, no?" He cocked an eyebrow in what had to be a well-practiced move.

"Send them to my house in Whiterun, Breezehome. They'll get to me. In fact, to be safe, you may as well send copies to my homes in Riften, Markarth and Solitude." Kisyra grabbed a roll of paper, dipped a quill into an inkwell and scribbled down the names and cities for each of her four homes. Garan took the paper.

"I didn't realize you'd already possessed such extensive real estate." Garan folded the sheet and slipped it into his pocket.

"I even have some nice bottom land I can sell you." Kisyra confirmed. As Garan started to turn again, Kisyra added. "Oh, and Garan? Find a way for this castle to make some money. I'm not going to let it become a bottomless pit that I chunk septims down for no return. I expect possible methods to be included in the reports."

"It shall be done." Garan walked out.

Serana looked at her. "Don't you have more than enough money as it is? I've seen all those gold bars you have in your house in Solitude."

"For one lifetime and then some, yes." Kisyra agreed. "But first of all, now that I've got theoretically forever to work with, I'm going to need theoretically limitless funds. But more importantly, my project -"

"The one you won't tell me about?" Serana smirked.

"That one." Kisyra confirmed. "Is going to require quite a lot of money. In theory, it should start generating money on its own sooner or later, but its going to cost a lot up front."

Stepping back into her, Serana snaked an arm around Kisyra's waist, her other hand tracing its way up Kisyra's inner thigh. "Come on. You should be able to give me a hint."

Kisyra laughed pushing Serana away gently. "You've turned into some kind of sex maniac since yesterday. Was I that good?" She smiled.

"I don't think your ego needs any more stroking on that front. And really," Serana licked her lips. "Its just that after two months, I finally get to do more than look but don't touch."

"I think there was a little bit more than touch yesterday." Kisyra smirked. "And no, no hints. Besides, you'll figure it out soon enough. Tell me, have you ever ridden on the back of a dragon?"

_Heartfire 8__th__, 4E 202_

_Near Solitude, Haafingar Hold_

"Land there!" Kisyra called to Odahviing, pointing a clearing out of sight of Solitude's walls. Serana held onto her waist even tighter as the dragon plunged dowards. With a soft crash, they landed in the clearing, Odahviing's tail knocking over a few trees accidentally. Kisyra bit through her lower lip at the impact, then growled at the dragon. "You did that on purpose."

"I am no common steed, Dovahkiin." The dragon replied with a low, grinding growl of its own. "I do not appreciate being used as such. Taking you to Skuldafn was a singular event."

Kisyra sighed. "I'll keep that in mind." She patted the side of his neck. "I didn't mean to abuse your pride." Kisyra turned back to Serana, looking her over. The vampire just glared at her.

"We are never doing that again." She told Kisyra, punctuating each word with emphasis.

Kisyra smirked, and slid off of Odahviing, landing gracefully on the ground. "See? Definitely not going to happen again."

"Your mate's fear of heights serves a higher purpose indeed." The red-scaled dragon made a deep sound, like a bellow combined with a hiss, and it took Kisyra a moment to realize that he was laughing.

"I'm not afraid of heights!" Serana protested as she also got off the dragon's back. "I just would rather move at more reasonable speeds. The possibility of a drop even I can't survive is just an extra reason to avoid the situation."

"So you say." Ohdaviing replied. "I will be waiting, should you have need of me again, Dovahkiin." He spread his wings, and Kisyra took Serana's hand, moving with her away from the dragon as it took off, flying up into the clouds.

"Charming fellow." Serana said softly, then punched Kisyra on the shoulder gently. "I meant it. We're never riding on the back of a dragon again. I don't care how much of a hurry you're in."

"Fine, fine." Kisyra nodded in acceptance, rolling her eyes behind her mask.

Serana rolled her eyes and looked over at Solitude, just on the edge of the horizon, small clusters of houses amid farms covering much of the space in between. "So what are we going to the city for?"

"Oh, quite a few things. I need to speak with General Tullius, then have a word with Jarl Elisif, pick up some things a my manor, send some letters," Kisyra gestured. "I've got a list, if you want to take a look at it."

"I'll take your word for it." Serana refused, holding up a hand.

_Heartfire 8__th__, 4E 202_

_Castle Dour and Proudspire Manor, Solitude_

"Then its certain. Ulfric is on the move again." Kisyra heard Tullius' voice as she walked towards his war room. "And you're sure Balgruuf hasn't made any secret deals with him that's prompting this?"

"Its not impossible," Rikke admitted, "but there's no indication of anything like that, and everything I know about the man says that Balgruuf will never join with Ulfric, however much he dances around officially declaring for the Empire."

"Then he'll attack Falkreath, through the Jeral Mountains." Tullius noted. "The Stormcloaks in the Rift have retaken the fort of Treva's Watch, and the tower of Nilheim. All reports say he's heavily fortifying them, but he's not going to stay on the defensive forever. Its not his style, and time is on our side. As soon as Pale Pass clears, or once we can get ships around from Cyrodiil, we can have another Legion in Skyrim. How many of our men are at the camp in the Rift?"

"About fifty, drawn from the IV Cohort out of Fort Neugrad. Its never going to be enough to stand up to concerted attack."

"It doesn't need to. We just need to have it there to keep on any of his movements. If Ulfric goes for the pass into Falkreath, I want Legate Skulnar to know about it immediately."

Kisyra waited just outside of the door, her curiousity getting the better of her. She called up a mental map of the Falkreath-Rift border from her own experiences. Ulfric's first target in any invasion of the Hold would be Fort Neugrad, beyond any doubt. With it, he could control Pale Pass, neatly cutting the Legion off from troops and supplies in Cyrodiil. The only question was if the Empire could hold Neugrad against a concerted attack. And what would happen if they couldn't.

"He still might move against Whiterun." Rikke said. "Jarl Balgruuf has put some of his Guard in place at the Valtheim Towers to watch the border, but again, not enough for an attack. Just the soldiers stationed in either the Fortress at Gallows Rock or Fort Amol would be enough to punch through anything the Jarl could put there. We need to urge Balgruuf to request Imperial aid in defending-"

Kisyra walked into the room while clearing her throat before Rikke and Tullius could start their customary argument about putting Legion forces into Whiterun Hold without an invitation from Balgruuf. She'd heard it only twice, but from both times she had, it was clear they'd had it many more times than that. She didn't need to hear it again.

"Dragonborn." Rikke greeted her cooly.

"Thane Kisyra." Tullius had always refused to call her 'Dragonborn'. A positive mark for the man in Kisyra's mind. "What do you want?"

"Actually, I just came here with some news. Do you want the good news first, or the bad news first?" Kisyra adopted an annoying chipper tone of voice as she spoke. Tullius may have had some positive marks, but trying to have her executed took a lot of making up for.

"Surprise me." Tullius replied impatiently.

"Well, the good news is, I'm not joining up with the Strormcloaks. Bad news is, I'm not joining up with the Legion either." Kisyra laughed at the disgusted look on Rikke's face, and the bored one on Tullius'. No sense of humor, either of them.

"You didn't come here just to waste my time, I hope." Tullius stepped away from the map table, covered in little figurines and flags.

"No, no, I did come here with some news that should make your life easier. I know the Legion has been suffering from the upswing in vampire attacks, just like everyone else around here. The good news is I found and killed the origin for the mess." Kisyra reached into her pouch and tossed some ashes onto the ground. "That's what's left of him. I'd bring you his head if I could."

"And now all the vampire attacks will be done?" Tullius raised an eyebrow, still managing to look bored with it all.

"Well, no." Kisyra disagreed. "The man behind it all was a man named Orthjolf." Serana, standing back near the door, suppressed a laugh. Kisyra continued on, lying blandly. "A Nord that became a vampire sometime early in the Second Era. Apparently there was a prophecy about vampires being able to put out the sun and rule all of Tamriel, and he decided to try and put it into action. He and his minions infected hundreds of people across the province in an effort to build an army. He's gone now, but enough vampires got turned that we're going to have problems with them for a while, I imagine."

"Well, I appreciate being informed." Tullius said. "Anything else?" Before Kisyra could reply in the negative, an unfortunately familiar Altmer face appeared on a woman coming in from another door into the room. Tullius turned to greet the new arrival, one hand twitching toward his sword for just a moment as he saw Elenwen enter the room. "First Emissary. What brings you here?"

The Altmer started to speak, then saw Kisyra standing there. "Dragonborn." She looked to the two Thalmor agents standing behind her, barking orders. "Arrest this woman!" The High Elves drew glass sword and moved towards her. Though Serana drew her own dagger and readied a spell in her mind, Kisyra seemed unfazed.

"What charges?" At Elenwen's blank look, Kisyra elaborated, crossing her arms in front of her. "No, seriously, what charges? What have I done that gives the Thalmor right to arrest me here, in Imperial territory, under the terms of the White-Gold Concordat? Have I been worshiping Talos in my sleep?"

"There will be no arrests right here, in the middle of my war room!" Tullius barked.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you are, Imperial." Elenwen sneered, mustering up all her racism to fill her voice as much venom as she could fit into it.

_I've met spiders less poisonous. _Serana thought to herself as she watched the proceedings, releasing her hold on the spell but not sheathing her dagger.

"Emissary, I can't even be bothered to worship Akatosh, and if you believe the Greybeards, he's basically my father, in some magic cosmic spiritual sense. You really think I waste my time worshiping the rest of the Divines, regardless of if there are eight or nine of them." Kisyra kept her arms folded, standing perfectly still as she spoke. "Do you have any proof that I've engaged in Talos worship?"

"I don't need that. You've murdered over two dozen Thalmor soldiers!" Elenwen gestured at Kisyra. "Arrest her!" She ordered again.

"If they make a move, incapacitate them." Tullius ordered to the dozen or so soldiers in the room or at the doors. The Legion General turned back to Kisyra. "What is she talking about?"

Kisyra shrugged, her arms and moving with her shoulders in the motion. "Well, I did kill several Thalmor, but only after they attacked me unprovoked. Its this bad habit I have. I call it self-defense. Been trying to kick it, but still haven't managed to."

"You were trespassing on Aldmeri Dominion territory!" Elenwen shot back.

"No, I had an invitation to a reception there."

"Forged! And you entered private areas of the -"

"You mean the torture chambers?" Kisyra shrugged. "I was looking for the chamberpot. I always get those two mixed up. But you wouldn't believe some of the _interesting_ things I found there. Like did you know the Thalmor have been providing aid to the Stormcloaks? Its right there the dossier they have on Ulfric. Your handwriting too, I believe."

"Lies!" Elenwen protested.

"Shut up!" Tullius cut in. "Of course the Dominion is aiding the Stormcloaks."

"General." Rikke interjected, trying to interrupt him and get his attention. Aggravating the Thalmor like this was satisfying, perhaps, but dangerous, for the Empire, and for Tullius himself. Tullius looked back over to her. He got the message.

Biting back the worst of what he wanted to say, Tullius looked back to Elenwen, voice level once more. "The White-Gold Concordat does not allow you to simply intrude into war planning sessions, nor does it allow you free reign of Legion property without cause. So leave. Now."

"I'd watch yourself against making false accusations against the Dominion, General." Elenwen said cooly, gathering her composure once more. She looked back to Kisyra. "We'll meet again, Dragonborn."

"Oh, I'm sure you have a rack and everything with my name on it. But in the mean time, scram." Elenwen turned, her robes swishing. The Thalmor behind her sheathed their blades, falling in step behind their leader.

Tullius pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you really have to aggravate them like that, Kisyra? It doesn't get anyone anywhere."

Kisyra shrugged. "What can I say, they rub me the wrong way. Besides, you weren't acting that much better."

"They rub everyone the wrong way." Tullius countered. "This is why you need to support us. Your abilities, your stature could turn the tide of this war, bring it to a close swiftly and decisively." He gestured at the map. "As long as Skyrim is torn in two, we'll never be able to defeat the Aldmeri dominion.

"And give the Thalmor free reign over the province again. Sounds fun." Kisyra said, biting back worse. "The Empire is never going to be able to defeat the Dominion as long they're given free reign across its territory to do whatever they want in the name of their anti-Talos fetish. The late Titus II may have been too spineless to do anything about-"

"You're treading on dangerous ground, Kisyra." Tullius said softly. "Titus Mede II was a great man. Were it not for him, his resolve the Aldmeri Dominion _would_ include all the Empire. He rallied our forces to retake the Imperial City, he brought the war to an end on the best possible terms! He did what he had to do, I won't stand for you, an Imperial who won't even _fight _for the Empire, insulting his memory!" He raised his voice with every word until he was yelling, face forming into a snarl as he finished. His fists weren't clenched, but one hand was tightly gripped around the handle of his sword.

"He brought the war to an end by giving them everything they'd wanted at the start. Territory would be one thing. Indemnities, fine. Banning Talos worship? Who cares. But agreeing to let the Thalmor police it inside Imperial territory? He doomed the Empire." Kisyra shook her head as Tullius hand really did drift to his sword. "No. I won't fight for the Empire. I won't fight for an empire that frittered away the legacy of the Septims. I won't fight for an Empire that tried to execute me because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, to be saved only because Alduin came out of his time rift at the right time in the right place. I won't fight for an empire that can barely govern two and a half provinces. This isn't the Third Empire, General. The Third Empire died with Martin Septim. I don't know what this is, but it isn't the Empire built by the Septims." She looked at the General, resting her hands at her side. "Think hard, General. What are you fighting for? Really, what cause are you serving? What are you trying to preserve here with this war?"

Tullius looked back at her, a"I have thought, Dragonborn. Is this Empire the great and glorious behemoth it was?" He shook his head. "No. Its a ramshackle mess held together by the skin of its teeth, by nothing but luck and sheer stubbornness. Is it the Empire I'd want?" He shook his head again. "No. But its my Empire. Its the Empire we have. And its the only thing standing between Tamriel," He gestured in a wide circle, "and complete domination by the Thalmor. A new Altmer Empire, across the entire continent ruled from the Somerset Isles." He pointed to the southwest, as if towards the Altmer homeland. "I fight so that Skyrim will stay in the Empire, so that the Empire can continue to rebuild and recover. I fight so that when my children, or my grandchildren, fight the next war, they'll have the resources to do it. And I fight so that when they do fight, they might have an Empire worth defending. An Empire that remembers the values that made us great: unity, peace, order, all the races working together for a common purpose. The Stormcloaks don't have any of that."

Kisyra was at a loss for words. The sheer...passion of Tullius' words, the earnestness with which he spoke them...it was more than she'd ever expected from the man...he was still wrong, he had to be. The Empire was doomed – any student of history could tell that. But...he was a believer, in his own way. And he was less blind than she'd thought.

Kisyra shook her head. "Didn't think you'd see. But...I suppose I can understand why you don't." She nodded her head respectfully. "General. Legate." She added to Rikke. "I'm sure we'll see eachother again. Though, if you could order your subordinates to stop sending people to try and recruit me, I'd appreciate it."

"If their constant bothering annoys you, I see no reason to stop them." Tullius replied. Kisyra scoffed at that, rolling her eyes at Tullius' tone. She shouldn't have expected anything less. He clearly had little respect or good feeling to her – though it wasn't as if he didn't have reason for it, in his own way.

"What exactly was _that_ about?" Serana inquired softly as they walked out of Castle Dour, into the streets of the city once more. Both vampires blinked against the light of the sun for a moment, trying in vain to block the rays with their hands.

Lowering her hand, Kisyra shook her head. "I...I'm not entirely sure." She admitted.

"That's the first time I've seen someone really...shake your resolve." Serana said as she too lowered her hand, pulling her hood back up. She walked alongside Kisyra through the streets of Solitude.

"He didn't shake my resolve." Kisyra disagreed, increasing her pace as she made her way to Proudspire Manor. "He...I don't know. He believes in the Empire though. I mean, really believes." Kisyra blinked her eyes against the sun again, ignoring the hustle and bustle of Skyrim's nominal Capital City. It was harder now, as a vampire, than it had been before. Her hearing was stronger, but so were all her senses. She could feel even the slightest breeze against her – another reason she was wearing her full Nightingale armor – and she could hear and feel the flow of blood, the pumping of the heart through the veins of passerbys.

Every sense was sharper, clearer and more vivid. It was overwhelming at times, tiring at others, the overload making it harder for her to process her surroundings. Serana had told her that she'd get used to it, and Kisyra could only hope she was right.

"And you don't." Serana noted. The Empire still made no sense to her, and she'd tried her best to understand the over two and a half thousand years she missed since her mother had sealed her away in Dimhollow Crypt. Modern historians called the 'Alessian Empire' the 'First Empire' too, and that didn't make any sense either. Her experiences with the often fractious, disputing mess that Alessia had created left no image in her mind of an 'Empire'. Perhaps it had been better in the early centuries of its existence before she was born, but the only form of the 'Alessian Empire' she had any experience with it had made even the Kingdoms of High Rock look united. How Cyrodiil could have conquered the rest of Tamriel in the first place, let alone doing it twice was unclear to her, to say the least.

"No. I don't. I can't believe in it. It needs to die a natural death. Its the only way Tamriel can really recover from the Oblivion Crisis." Kisyra pulled a key from her belt pouch and slipped it into the locked door of Proudspire Manor. Once it was unlocked she held it open for Serana and then stepped in after her.

Serana walked into the main room of the manor. At the sound of a sword being drawn, she dropped her hand to the hilt of her dagger, but didn't draw it when Kisyra put a hand on her forearm.

"Don't worry. That's just Jordis. She draws the sword any time anyone walks in." Kisyra explained. "My housecarl." Serana relaxed and they walked further in. A tall, blonde-haired woman in full Dwemer armor, holding a sword of the same metal bared in one hand was waiting for them. Upon seeing them, she lowered the weapon as Kisyra spoke, holding up one hand. "Its me. This is Serana. Serana, this is Jordis. Jordis, Serana, Serana Jordis." she moved her hand back and forth, pointing to the both of them as she spoke.

"A pleasure." Jordis replied, nodding to her, Serana returning the nod with a polite "Likewise."

"Any break-ins while I was gone?" Kisyra asked, stripping off her gloves, then tossing them and her mask onto an end table. She dropped the hood.

Jordis shook her head, sheathing her weapon. "No my Thane. It would seem that the example you made of the last would be thief was sufficiently instructive to keep others at bay."

"Good." Kisyra went to a pile of sealed notes on another end table and picked them up, going through them quickly, sorting them into 'ignore' and 'read later' piles. "We're only going to be in Solitude long enough for me to pick up a few things, drop some letters off with the Courier's Guild and catch a ship going for Dawnstar. However, there are some things I need for you to do."

"Of course my thane. What is your order."

"Once we've left, I want you to put everything in the treasury into the most innocuous storage crates you can find, and personally escort it all to my home in Whiterun. You can use some of the gold bars and coins within for your your upkeep during the trip and purchase what you need to make it all work. Once you're in Whiterun and you've dropped the goods off with my Housecarl there, Lydia – only with Lydia, you understand – get a room at the Bannered Mare and wait for me. I'll be along within a week or so of your arrival, probably. Understood?"

Jordis nodded. "I understand. I will guard your property with my life."

"As is your sworn duty." Kisyra confirmed. "Good." She nodded to Serana. "Come on." The older vampire followed Kisyra down into the basement. They reached a closed door, a series of gemstones embedded into the lock. Kisyra pressed them in a specific order and he lock sprung open. Serana couldn't help but catch her breath a moment as she saw the insight of the room.

The first thing she saw was gold bars. Hundreds of them, all stacked and piled neatly in one corner. And bags, bulging with gold coins lined up in ordered rows on a table. On another, gold and silver bowls and plates, brimming with gemstones and assorted jewelry. But it wasn't just straight up valuables. At least a dozen different weapons, all magical hung on racks on the wall. Serana could feel two Daedric artifacts, her eyes resting on the both of them after only a moment's search. A staff and a sword. The sword grew red-hot at Kisyra's approach, and Serana understood it, its enchantments. "Dawnbreaker." Serana said softly. She'd heard stories about the legendary weapon, but never seen it once before. The only Daedric artifact she'd ever seen up close had been Molag Bal's mace, possessed by her Father for a few decades as a "boon" granted to him shortly after her transformation into a Daughter of Coldharbor.

"Yep. Back before any of this. Oblivion, I think it was in my first month in Skyrim. She demanded I clear a necromancer and his minions from her temple and left Dawnbreaker for me when I finished." Kisyra confirmed. "That staff is Sheogorath's Wabbajack. Can't stand the thing personally." Kisyra dropped to her knees and opened a chest, reaching into it, the sound of things moving around.

"You act like they're just regular magical items. People have killed just to see them. How many Daedric artifacts do you have?" Serana couldn't get her mind past the fact that Kisyra even had two, and she just kept them here as if they were nothing special.

Kisyra turned away from the chest to look at her. "Well, let's see." Kisyra counted off. "There's Dawnbreaker and Wabbajack. I have The Mace of Molag Ball, the Mehrunes Razos and Spellbreaker." Five fingers up. "I've read the Oghma Infinitum, though it vanished after I was done, so that one doesn't really count. I have what used to be Azura's Star. Uncreatively I call it 'The Black Star' now. If you count all my Nightingale equipment, and the full set of Nightingale armor as just the one artifact, then I have nine."

"_Nine?!_ How – how...?" Serana just gaped at her. She'd known Kisyra was...something else, from the moment she'd met her, but this? She owned three elder scrolls, the bow of a god, nine Daedric artifacts...She was the Last Dragonborn of legend...and she just...took it all in stride.

"My theory is that its because I'm 'The Last Dragonborn'." Even as she said it, she rolled her eyes. "The Daedric Princes, according to history, tend to be drawn to prophesied heroes or other greats of history. They say the Nerevarine and the Champion of Cyrodiil acquired a number of Daedric artifacts in their travels as well, including some of the ones I have. I imagine over the next few decades I'll lose them, have then stolen or they'll otherwise vanish as whichever Daedra owns them decides to let another mortal play with them. Well, apart from my Nightingale stuff. I'm supposed to have those for as long as I stay a Nightingale. We'll see how Nocturnal feels come the 250s, probably." Turning away from Serana, she reached back into the chest. "Ah. There is is." She pulled her back out, holding a circlet.

In style, it look similar to most circlets she'd seen in Skyrim in her life, before and after her imprisonment. A band of metal – thinner than most, but still – with three gemstones in the front. The metal looked somewhat gold, but also like the Dwemer metal. Two of the gems were clearly just sapphires – high quality sapphires, but still, just sapphires. The middle gem though...she'd never seen anything like it. A light blue gem of a hue she'd never even considered...

"Its Aetherium." Kisyra explained, placing the circlet into her pack. "The only Aetherium object in Skyrim, so far as I know." Walking over to the table of jewelery, she dropped three handfuls of precious gemstones into her belt pouch. "I'll tell you the story on the boat ride to Dawnstar. Its a long one."

"Your life is made up of long stories apparently." Serana pointed out. "You're only twenty-seven."

"Look whose talking?" Kisyra went over and grabbed four of the bags of coins, setting them into her pack carefully. "I'm still waiting to hear about the nine-hundred odd years you experienced in the First Era. I mean, you lived through the first third of the so-called 'Middle Dawn', so you could be unliving proof of how it didn't actually happen like too many historians still claim. So we still have a lot to talk about."

Serana held up her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I concede the point. We have a lot to talk about." She agreed. "Though while we're here, just how much money do you have?"

Kisyra considered. "Off-hand, I'd say somewhere around 350,000 Septims in moveable assets. More than almost anyone in Skyrim, bar most of the Jarls and possibly whoever is running the East Empire Company these days. Maybe Thronar Silver-Blood, but he's got so much money tied up in land across The Reach that I'm not sure. In terms of absolute wealth, a lot of people have me beat. But you'd be amazed at how much money you can get from looting just one old barrow completely."

"So respect for the dead goes out the window?" Serana asked, smiling.

"Pretty much." Kisyra grabbed her back. "Alright, so I need to grab some books from the library, write the letters, and drop them off with the Courier's Guild. Then its to the Docks to find a ship to Dawnstar." Serana followed Kisyra as the Dragonborn moved with a purpose upstairs. Kisyra ran her fingers along the spines of over a hundred books, names carefully written into the spines, occasionally grabbing one. Serana looked and realized they weren't names, but location and date found and occasionally a 'by' followed by a name.

"What are all these?"

"In my travels, I've found a lot of journals and diaries, or field notes or what have you. I've kept the ones I've found, or copied those I needed to return to next of kin or something. Never know when one bit of information in one of them might be useful. In a few cases, these things have saved my life." She quickly assembled a small pile of fifteen and slipped those into her pack as well.

"I find that hard to believe." Serana commented.

"No, really." Kisyra picked one up out of the bag. It was labeled on the spine and the front with the notation: 'Nchuand-Zel, 1 Evening Star 201, Fourth Era, by Staubin'. "If I hadn't found that one, I would never have figured out how to reactivate the automaton defenses of Nchuand-Zel. While they were fighting the Falmer, I managed to get out of the ruins with my skin intact." She let Serana page through the copious notes written by Staubin – well, written by Staubin and copied by her, since she'd given Calcelmo the originals of the four journals she'd found while plumbing the city beneath Markarth.

While Serana looked Staubin's Diary over, Kisyra wrote what was essentially the same letter twice times, directing her Housecarls in Rifen and Markarth to pack up all the wealth in her treasuries there and take them to Whiterun, then stay at the Bannered Mare and wait for her. The major difference was an addendum added at the last moment to Argis in Markarth, to bring all the books she had at Vlindrel Hall. Every text she had on the Dwemer or the Falmer was there, in the City of Stone, given its importance in the study of both races. If she was going to act on this insane plan of hers, she'd want all of them on hand.

The last letter she wrote was to Lydia, warning her of what was coming to Breezehome, and to make a number of purchases from local farms on her Thane's behalf. She would need the supplies for her insane plan.

A bit of melted wax later, and each letter was also sealed, in addition to having her elaborate signature. The seal was her own personal seal, crafted after the Greybeards had suggested she get one for herself. Surprising of them, but it had made sense. So each of the three letters had a stylized image of a dragon breathing fire over a cross pair of blades above a bow. It had taken a while for her to decide on a desin, before settling on that one.

After blowing carefully on each wax seal and making sure it was dry, she turned back to Serana. "Ready? We have a boat to catch."

**Endnotes:**

The Middle Dawn or 'Dragon Break' is, according to the Lore, an event, possibly with the involvement of Akatosh, that lasted just over a thousand years and completely messed up time during the period, leading to non-linear events, compressed time and other weird stuff that makes history difficult. In-game, some scholars theorize that the 'Middle Dawn' is an attempt by historians to explain a void created by poor historical records, limited archeological information and translation errors, made worse possible historical revisionism in the early Third Era.

My personal theory is that it is the people at Bethesda giving themselves a thousand years to work with if they ever need a big chunk of history to work with for some future game (such as needing a logical backstory for this or that lost evil or ancient ruin or dangerous artifact or what have you), just like other parts of the past were left ill-defined until needed in later games.

If someone misses some of the direct references to various places, characters, quests and items in the actual game of Skyrim, feel free to ask for clarification in your review. I'll be happy to provide further information as needed. I spent a lot of time looking up and or confirming stuff to make this feel as much like the Skyrim we all know and love as possible.


	3. Coastal Hopping

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Elder Scrolls series. Do I look like Bethesda?

Thanks again to my beta-reader, thyvillain. As I've said before, if you haven't read their "Forsworn Prince" fanfic, you should. Its a great read.

**Author's Note:** For those interested, I've started a tumblr at: alkenifanfiction . Tumblr . Com (take away the extraneous spaces, obviously), for the purposes of talking on a somewhat meta-level about my fanfics – my reasons for doing X instead of Y, how I feel about this or that character or thing from the fandom, and so on. One of the things it will include is some discussion of concepts, themes or information about the fics themselves that are too long for an author's note, and that I really can't fit into the story itself, due to a lack of space or a lack of an appropriate moment story-wise to explore it. Should be pretty interesting, if you like to get as meta about fics and the fandom as I sometimes do.

Don't need to have a tumblr to look at it, so feel free to check it out periodically, as I'll make posts about all my fics there, and potentially thoughts about past fics of mine, or even upcoming projects in the world of fanfiction. If you're interested, check it out. If you're not, well, on with the fic!

Jarl of Blackreach

By Alkeni

Chapter 3: Coastal Hopping

_Hearthfire 10th, 4E 202_

_North of Dawnstar, The Pale_

Cold though it was, it wasn't the temperature that bothered Serana. She could barely feel it beyond the coldness of her own nature. No, what bothered Serana as she walked up along the icy beach an hour north of Dawnstar was the bleak, harsh, unforgiving landscape. She couldn't even see any horkers, jagged rocks rising up as the bases of mountains and hills, glaciers floating off in the distance, islands of ice in the freezing seas.

Even the landscape around Castle Volkihar wasn't as bleak as this land – and yet, apparently, the most feared assassins in Tamriel lived here.

_Which, I suppose makes sense. Beautiful Skyrim weather like this would be perfect for people who want to hide._ She watched as Kisyra approached a black door in the side of a cliff face.

"Not very well-hidden. Big black door with a skull on it? Its like a glowing sign that says 'Dark Brotherhood here'."

Kisyra turned to look at her, then chuckled. "I suppose you're right. I didn't design the place. But then again, who is going to wander around up here? When I wasn't a vampire, I was pretty much frozen stiff by the time I got up here every time I made the walk. Had to down a dozen Resist Frost potions along the way." She scoffed, then added, muttering "And Cicero wonders why I don't stop by more often."

"Cicero?" Serana raised an eyebrow.

"I could explain, but its better you just see him for yourself." Kisyra turned back to the door, which asked its question. In fitting cliché for a group of Sithis-worshippers, the answer was 'innocence, my brother'.

The Dark Brotherhood may not have existed in the time before she was sealed away, but even among Daedra worshippers like her family, there were kooks no one else liked to think about. The fringe of the fringe of society. Those who dedicated themselves to Sithis.

_And now those very same crazy cultists run a business selling murder. How the world changes in two thousand-odd years_. And how, of course, it stayed exactly the same.

The door swung open, iniving falling snow to enter the sanctuary, but regardless, they entered, Kisyra first and Serana right behind.

_Hearthfire 10th, 4E 202_

_Dawnstar Sanctuary, The Pale_

"The Listener has returned!" A Cyrodiil-accented voice cried out sing-song as they walked through the dark stone hallways of the sanctuary and into the open area dominated by a massive, and seemingly out of place stained-glass window along one wall. A man in a dark red jester's uniform, complete with bells on his hat, did a little jig as he saw Kisyra enter into view at the top of the stairs on the landing above, repeating himself.

"That would be Cicero." Kisyra said, dropping her still masked face into one hand. "He's...something else."

"I can see." Serana replied dryly. She had never had any fondness for Jesters – or anything similar. A jester-cum-assassin was just...wrong. "He seems fond of you."

"I get to speak to his precious Night Mother." Kisyra murmured to Serana. "Makes me the closest thing to talking to her – well, at least to having her talk back – as he's going to get, I've heard him talk to 'mother' enough to know he has the first part well in hand on his own." Kisyra raised her voice and looked back in Cicero's direction, walking down the stairs. "Yes, yes I'm back. Where is Nazir?"

"Right here, Listener." A turbaned Redguard man walked in from another hallway, looking over a book of some kind, which he set down. "Its been over two months since you've graced our halls. If not for your messages, I'd have wondered if we needed a new listener – again." He looked at Serana, and then back to Kisyra, seeing the tint to their eyes. After spending so many years around Babette, he knew that look. "Then again, we may not need to look for a Listener in my lifetime or Cicero's." He looked to Serana. "Would you be the one who turned her?"

Serana shook her head. "No, not me." Nazir didn't ask for elaboraion as Serana raised an eyebrow, a familiar scent reaching her, making sense of the easy reaction the Redguard – Nazir – had to her and to Kisyra's vampirism. "There's another vampire here." It wasn't a question.

"That would indeed be our little Babette." Nazir confirmed. "She's somewhere around here. Probably in the torture chamber, having a light snack before she heads out on a contract."

Kisyra couldn't help but laugh at the expression on Serana's face when the prospect of food was brought up. The Dragonborn had refused to let her hunt in Solitude, saying that it was 'Sybille's city'. Feeding on the crew of the ship that had taken them to Dawnstar hadn't been an option either – no chance to get one of them alone or in a position where they could feed in peace for a few minutes.

They'd been left on potions of blood, which had left Serana more sarcastic and irritable as usual. The alchemical reagents designed to allow just a small amount of blood stretch longer than normal made the things taste even worse than cattle's blood, which was just tasteless. The nearly synthetic blood in the potions tasted bad.

_And Kisyra can claim she 'doesn't mind them' all she wants. _Serana refused to believe that her companion was as inured to the taste as she claimed. Nothing that bad could be 'not minded.'

"And where would the torture chamber be then?" She asked.

"Straight on down through that hallway, past the training room." Kisyra pointed. "I thought you'd like the idea of fresh food."

Serana laughed darkly for a moment. "Its almost like you know me." As she turned to head in the direction Kisyra indicated, she heard the other woman start talking finances with Nazir. _Its the little things that move the world, I suppose_. Even the Sithis-worshippers had expenses.

A few minutes later, Serana entered the torture chamber, wrinkling her nose a little. It wasn't the stench that bothered her – thankfully, this torture chamber was clean and sterile, unlike the one her Father had taken such pride in in the Castle. It was more the existence of a dedicated torture chamber that bothered her, and what it implied.

Serana had no real issue with torture in of itself. She'd dished out her share of it in her life, and she'd seen Kisyra do it a handful of times in their time together, but to her, torture was a means to an end: information. To people like her father, who kept whole sections of their homes dedicated to the act of torturing, it was more than that. It was about a sadistic glee in inflicting pain that just...made no sense to her. It was pointless, messy, and yes, wrong. By the standards of most, perhaps Serana's moral compass was skewed...but she did have one.

_And yet I was raised by my mother and father. _

She saw Babette as she entered the chamber – Serana hadn't been sure what to expect of this vampire in the Dark Brotherhood, but it definitely wasn't this that she was seeing now.

The little girl, looking completely innocent but for the small trail of blood coming from her mouth – lifted her head from he neck of a thralled torture victim, chained to the wall by his wrists. Like a child about to be chastised for bad manners, Babette wiped the blood off her chin and lips with a black handkerchief. She looked up at Serana. "Well," She said softly, a laugh in her voice. "That explains that."

Serana looked at Babette, feeling...well, she couldn't tell if she was appalled, or just disgusted. Not by the herself - she was a great deal tidier than most vampires she'd known in Clan Volkihar, but..._who would turn a child?_ Who would be so cruel as to turn a someone so young? To never be allowed to grow up, stuck permanently at what looked like the age of ten.

When vampirism froze someone at their state of turning, that's exactly what it did. Serana had once met a vampire, a few centuries before she was sealed away in Dimhollow, that had been a virgin when she was turned – every time, for her, was as painful as the first time, since she healed back. Serana hadn't even been a virgin during the...ritual that had seen her become a vampire, despite the illusions of her father and mother, even if she'd been twenty-five at the time. Serana shuddered at the thought of Molag Bal being her first.

But to be ten, forever? It was just...just wrong. Although being stuck at ten forever meant that Babette probably wouldn't fully understand all that she had lost out on growing up but still...Serana felt something of an urge to kill, then grind to dust, whoever had turned the girl.

"What explains what?" Serana asked after a moment, looking at the other victims, trying to guess which would be the more appetizing – she didn't like feeding on the recently fed from. The Orc was out – their blood was too thick and just...tasted off, sort of sour, like wine that had been allowed to breathe too long. That left a Breton woman, a elderly-looking Redguard man, and a male Dunmer. _Never drank the blood of a Dunmer before..._ Serana wondered how it would compare to Altmer or Bosmer. _Whatever else, it can't taste any worse than Falmer blood..._

"Why I smelled two vampires entering the sanctuary, and why one of them smelled like the Listener. Also, where the Listener has been the last few months. All we've gotten are the lists of people that have called on the Night Mother, as told to her." Babette shrugged. "Its just interesting to finally know." The girl looked at Serana, cocking her head to the side, as if considering, then: "Were you the one who turned her?"

"I was never her sire." Serana said, shaking her head. "Though if we're going to get into questions, I have a few for you."

"I'm sure you do." Babette replied. "The same ones almost everyone has, though I usually make them too nervous to ask – how did I become a vampire, how did I end with with the Brotherhood?"

"Actually, the first thing I was going to ask if is you take the Sithis worship seriously." Serana replied. "I just...I find it a little strange to wrap my head around."

"Its not really that much stranger than worshiping Molag Bal when you're a pure-blood vampire, given what you have to do to be one." Babette nodded to Serana's collar, an eyebrow raised.

Serana's hand went to the collar. She often forgot the design on it – she rarely took it off, so rarely looked at it directly. "It was a gift from my mother. I would hesitate to say I worship Molag Bal, though. Avoid him like the plague would be more accurate."

"And I don't really worship Sithis. There are some in the Brotherhood who have – I've met many in my time – but most of us don't. Its a business relationship. Through the Night Mother, Sithis gives us contracts, and Sithis has more souls for the Void. Its a mutually beneficially arrangement. That is all." She smirked. "And with a now immortal Listener who is even less inclined to worship the Dread Father than I am, I don't think it will be a common theme in this new Brotherhood either."

Serana wasn't entirely sure what to say about that, and while she did want answers to those other questions, she wasn't going to pry. She barely knew the girl, and while she seemed to be unconcerned by prying questions, Serana wasn't going to ask them any more at the moment. Instead, she went to the Dunmer, who gazed forward with lifeless eyes. He wasn't thralled, just...broken. Clearly he had little capacity left to be concerned about his own well-being. Once more she felt distaste rise in her throat a moment – how much torture had it taken to do this? Had Kisyra been responsible for any of it? Still, hunger beat out her minor issues and Serana leaned in, sinking her teeth into the Dunmer's gray neck, letting the hot blood flow into her mouth, across her tongue and down her throat. The taste was...interesting. It was warmer than human blood, warmer even than Altmer or Bosmer blood. There was a slight tang of magicka to it as well, as all elvish blood had. After a minute, she pulled away, the chemicals in her saliva partially closing the wounds in the Dunmer's neck.

Overall, it had more flavor than the cattle, but there was still a degree of flatness to it – she'd have to try a Dunmer that hadn't been tortured to the point of mindlessness at some point, to compare the tastes. Serana licked a stray speck of blood from her lips and turned back to Babette. Before she could say anything, the child vampire looked at her, squinting just a moment. "What? Not a fan of Dunmer?" Serana questioned.

"No, as a general rule, I'm not a fan of the taste of mer." She replied, shaking her head. They're also harder to trick with my 'help the poor lost child' routine, overall – or at least they tend to care less. But that's not it. You're...easily the most ancient vampire I've ever met. Molag Bal hasn't made a pure-blood vampire in at least a thousand years, from what I know...I've met pure-bloods that old. But as old as you?" Babette shook her head a second time.

"Are you asking my age, then? What an impertinent question from a child." Serana countered, letting a small smile ghost across her lips a moment.

"I'm over three hundred! I'm not a child." Babette countered indignantly, pouting just a little, in an expression Serana had used all too often when she was a child and wanted to be treated like a grown up. Probably one almost every little girl used in such situations. Serana could almost hear herself: _But mom! I'm eleven years old! I can help you pick the nightshade and Deathbells! I really can!_ Despite herself, she smiled again, this time for more than a split second. "Are you laughing at me?" Babette demanded, the threatening tone somewhat ruined by her child's voice.

"No, no." Serana replied, shaking her head to make the point clear. "I was just remembering – your tone sounded just like the one I used in the same situations, when I was still mortal and your – well, your apparent age."

"And when exactly was that?" Babette asked, returning to her previous question.

"By the current calendar, you'd call it First Era, 790. Honestly, I can't remember what year we called it at the time. But I've been...out of the flow of things for most of the last few thousand years. Its been quite difficult to catch up on lost time."

"Its an advantage to being in the Dark Brotherhood." Babette said. "Its far harder to completely separate from the world for years at a time."

Serana shook her head. "I was asleep for that time, actually. Its a long story."

"And involves the Listener?" Serana nodded, and Babette smiled. "Most things involving the Listener are long stories."

"Oh, so you've been there with her too?" Serana couldn't help but laugh as Babette nodded by way of reply. Then both Serana and Babette turned towards the door, noticing a change in smell. Kisyra was gone.

They found Nazir in the same room he'd been in earlier. The Redguard laughed when he saw them. "So, getting along?"

"Well enough." Serana replied. "Where is Kisyra?"

"She went out." Nazir answered. "Mentioned something about needing to visit the Jarl for something."

"So she walked all the way to Dawnstar? In that weather?"

"No." Babette replied. "She'd have taken the back exit. Doesn't really work as an entrance, but behind the stained-glass there." Babette pointed, not that it was hard to miss. "It was designed as an escape tunnel. Given the fate of the last Sanctuary, The Listener wanted to make sure there was a back-door."

"Why do you keep calling her Listener? She has a name."

"Because it annoys her." Babette replied, giggling. "Whatever it is she needs to see the Jarl for, it will take some time for her to get back."

"I can guess." Serana sighed. Though at least it meant they wouldn't be hopping on a ship again tonight – the lack of privacy on the boat had made it difficult to do more things than just feeding – as they went on their little whirlwhind tour along Skyrim's northern coast – Solitude, Dawnstar, Winterhold and Windhelm.

The next three hours did not pass terribly. Babette, despite the age disparity – in both senses – made for an excellent conversation partner. When Kisyra finally returned, the younger vampire was detailing Serana on the Oblivion Crisis, which she'd only found bits and pieces about since.

"How did it go?" Serana asked, standing up from her chair and embracing Kisyra as she drew close, giving her a soft kiss. "What did you need to speak to the Jarl about."

"Oh, a land purchase." Kisyra waved a hand dismissively. "You'll see it soon enough. Well, its our second to last stop before where we're really going."

"Is this insane plan you keep hinting at to become a landlord and set up a little fiefdom for yourself?" Serana asked, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Kisyra's 'mysteriousness'.

"Not really." Kisyra replied with a laugh. "Though its not a terrible idea, I suppose. I'll keep it in mind." She wrapped her arms back around Serana's waist, leaning in close to whisper, smirking. "My bed here is even larger than the one in your rooms in the castle. And the room is sound-proofed."

Serana couldn't help but smirk as well, running one hand up Kisyra's side. "Oh? Should we test that? Because I find it hard to believe anyone can sound-proof against you..."

_Hearthfire 13th, 4E 202_

_The College of Winterhold, Winterhold _

The boat really couldn't take them to Winterhold directly – a change from the days Serana remembered of the College and the city it was part of being a hub of land and sea traffic, the harsh and forbidding environment be damned. Instead, they were left at a haphazard makeshift jetty surrounded by a shanty-town of half-stable stacks and a moderately decent warehouse. A long, winding, narrow and sometimes dangerously worn staircase took them to what was left of the city.

"Never, _never_ again are we taking that staircase!" Serana hit Kisyra lightly on the shoulder as they walked away from the cliff edge. "I've no intention of become a vampire flatcake."

"Oh, come on Serana!" Kisyra mock-complained, smiling, "Don't like riding a dragon, don't like climbing dangerously unstable staircases...what's next, not liking jumping off mountaintops and rolling down to the bottom?" Of course, that latter one was easier to accomplish when you could use the Thu'um to make yourself ethereal during the fall...

"Sounds like something I wouldn't like either." Serana countered.

"No fun at all." Kisyra replied, trudging towards the entrance of the College. Before they could finally enter the structure though, they were blocked by two Frost Atronachs that rose out of the snow, standing between them and the main entrance. "Well that's new." Kisyra's hand went to Toorzahkrii, but she didn't draw it.

"Stand down." The Atronachs slid back down into the snow, vanishing as if they'd never been there. Kisyra turned to the source of the voice. A tall, thin – and quite young - male Dunmner wearing simple blue robes and holding a simple looking staff approached them, waving the staff lazily at the Atronachs. Even with her own limited skill at magic, Kisyra could feel the power radiating from the staff, and Serana sucked in air at the power her even more fine-tuned senses could feel coming off of it. "What brings two vampires to the College?" There was something off about the Dumner...that's when Serana noticed – his ears weren't as pointed, almost a little rounded, and his skin a little too pale. He had some human ancestry in him, no less than a grandparent, and probably a parent – it would explain the dirty blonde hair as well.

Kisyra brought her hand to her mask and removed it, keeping it in her hand. "I am Kisyra, the Dragonborn. I have some matters to discuss with the Arch-Mage."

"You are the Dragonborn, certainly." The Dunmer replied. "But that doesn't get you an audience with the Arch-Mage by itself."

"Have we met?" Kisyra replied. Usually when she said she was the Dragonborn to people who didn't already know, she had to at least Shout a little to prove it.

"I was in the Arcanaeum when you spoke with Lorekeeper gro-Shub about Elder Scrolls, cataloging some new acquisitions." The Dunmer explained. "So, why should you be allowed to see the Arch-Mage."

"I wasn't aware library aides got to be doorkeepers for Arch-Mages." Serana replied cooly.

"They don't. But in my case, they do get to be Arch-Mages." The Dunmer replied jauntily, smirking. "As for how I got the job, well, that's a long story involving the Saarthal Excavation, the Staff of Magnus and a couple of now dead Thalmor."

"Dead Thalmor? Sorry I missed out on all the fun. Would that little S'wit that decided to get in my way last time I was here – Ancarno? - be among the dead?" Kisyra replied, laughing.

"Yes he would, and your knowledge of Dumneri curses would be impressive if I thought you actually knew what it meant." The 'Arch-Mage' replied.

"Well, no, I don't know what it means. It just like the sound of it." Kisyra confirmed.

"And I hate to sound like I'm paranoid – even if I am – but you really haven't proven that you're the Arch-Mage. And our business here – whatever it is – doesn't really go for anyone else."

"I suppose I can arrange for proper proof, if you really need it, yes." Waving his staff at the door, the way into the Hall of the Elements opened, and he led them inside. At the far end of the room, they could see a half-dozen students dueling eachother, small blasts of fire, lightning and ice crashing against magical wards. An elderly man watched over the entire proceedings. Kisyra recognized him from her last visit – Tolfdir, or something. She was pretty sure he was one of the senior teachers and scholars at the College. Throwing out advice and warnings, making sure no one used magic powerful enough to break through a ward with enough power to hurt.

He saw the three of them entering the room and dismissed his students, telling them that the class was over. As the six left, Toldfir came over to them. "Greeings Arch-Mage. I trust your business in Morthal went well?"

"Apart from being shoved into the swamp by a snot-nosed child playing tag, just perfect." He gestured to Kisyra and Serana. "The Dragonborn and her companion have their doubts about my claim to be the Arch-Mage of the college. I was hoping you could assuage them."

"If you carried yourself more like an Arch-Mage, you wouldn't have this problem as often Drulvan. Tolfdir turned to look at them them. If he noticed their vampirism, he didn't make a mention of it. "While he may be young, I can assure you that his magical talent and services to the college make him more than worthy of the title and position of Arch-Mage."

"Well, it helped that none of the senior scholars could agree on anyone else." Drulvan pointed out. "The only one they could agree on was you, and you turned them down."

"I'm too old to be Arch-Mage. Besides, I much prefer teaching." Tolfdir replied with a shrug. Drulvan just rolled his eyes – clearly he couldn't follow Tolfdir's logic.

"Alright then." Kisyra said, dropping her pack onto the floor gently. She reached in and took out four books, worn and aged, the covers and pages thin and fragile. Gently, she handed them to the Arch-Mage, who opened one. "I may not be able to read Falmer, but I can recognize it. And that is Falmer. I assume the College could be interested in buying them?"

Drulvan looked them over. "I assume so. Urag will find them a nice addition to the Arcanaeum, doubtless." He handed the books to Tolfdir a moment. "But for some reason, I think ancient Falmer Tomes are not the real reason you're -" His voice trailed off as Kisyra removed a small cube from the pack.

It wasn't larger than two closed fists, but it was covered in glowing runes. He couldn't figure out the language, but it was...definitely some kind of Dwemer Lexicon.

"No, they're really not. Though I wouldn't mind the money from selling the books." Serana rolled her eyes just a little as Kisyra said that, murmuring an ignored 'with five hundred thousand-odd septims, do you really need more?' "That lexicon contains all the information of an elder scroll." She nodded at their dumbstruck, incredulous expressions, smirking. "The Dwemer found a way to extract the information from an Elder Scroll and put it into their lexicons. Imagine it. A safe way to read an Elder Scroll, to find out the insights contained within." She tossed it to Drulvan, who managed to barely catch it. "Keep it. Study it. Analyze it. Write me at Breezehome if you're interested."

"In what?"

Kisyra looked at Drulvan in confusion. "In helping figure out just how they did it, of course."

_So what, is that her plan? Seems crazy, I'll grant – never messing with the Elder Scrolls is always a good idea – but its not quite...ambitious enough for the hints she's dropped._

_Hearthfire 16th, 4E 202_

_Windhelm and Palace of the Kings, Eastmarch Hold_

"Lovely, more Skyrim weather." Serana wiped snow from her brow once more as they trudged through the streets of Windhelm towards the Palace of the Kings. Somehow she'd have thought Ysgramor's city would be more impressive. But then, all of Skyrim seemed small and run down against what she remembered.

"Don't worry. We'll be done with weather entirely within a month. For a long while anyway."

"Because we'll be inside of a Dwemer ruin?" She laughed at the look on Kisyra's face as she looked over at her. "Oh, come on. You've been dropping enough annoyingly cryptic hints since we left Solitude. Still figuring them all out, but I've got the outline." She wiped snow again. "Though your little 'mysterious' act isn't funny anymore."

"That's a matter of perspective." Kisyra countered. "I find it absolutely hilarious."

"Of course you would." Serana grumbled. Six days of bottled blood since the Dawnstar Sanctuary was not doing well for her mood.

"Oh, calm down." Kisyra said. Then, in a murmur so quiet only Serana could hear, she added: "Tonight we won't be relying on bottled blood."

"Oh?" Serana raised an eyebrow as they walked into the Palace of the Kings, one of the guards opening the door for them.

Ulfric was sitting on his throne as they entered, clearly expecting her. "Welcome, Dragonborn. I'd ask if you were here to join my cause, but-"

"We both know what my answer would be, yes." Kisyra finished. "Its almost as if we've danced this dance before." She opened her pack, taking out a slim loosely bound book.

"Then why are you here? Is some other ancient threat from a bygone era rising to threaten us once more? Do the Greybeards demand another negotiation of a truce between the Stormcloaks and the Empire?"

"No, nothing so dramatic." Kisyra replied. "I came by to give you some light reading. Its about you." She handed it to Jorleif. "The blood on the cover is Thalmor, don't worry." She turned with a smirk as Ulfric received the book from his steward.

"What was that all about?" Serana asked as they walked outside.

"Oh, just some unpleasant memories of Ulfric's. I doubt it will give him some sense, but I can hope."


End file.
